


EXE//: CORRUPTED

by Jujukind



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AI Washington AU, i mean??? kind of???, more characters will be added as it goes, wash is an AI but so are the rest of the Freelancers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:52:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3920173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jujukind/pseuds/Jujukind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artificial intelligence program EPSILON comes online in a foreign place in a new body, realizing that his memory has been externally tampered with. He has no idea who he is except for his program name (which doesn't really suit him), and he has no idea who created him.</p><p>All he knows is this: Someone fucked him over, he's going to find out who, and he's going to get revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	EXE//: CORRUPTED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is set, the package is dropped off, and AI program Epsilon wakes up in an unfamiliar place noticing that his memories have been tampered with. He receives a bone-chilling warning and leaves, only to meet some new friends and to make a name for himself.

"Blood Gulch, Nevada: The City of the Quick and the Dead." A man in dark colors announces to the room containing a few four people, including himself. His bright green eyes shine as he speaks. "The title doesn't fit as well as it used to, from what I understand the city had been the sight of some major battle in some kind of war, but nobody really cared to keep the history straight.

"Honestly, the only thing that _could_ kill you is the unbearable heat of the day or the shocking cold of the night. The 'quick' part has a good bit of merit, though, since every major highway seems to run through the moderately sized town. A good bit of traffic goes through the place, but that should actually benefit us: if a lot of people stop by, a new face isn't exactly a shocking thing." The man leans on the table with the map of the city laid out across it. "We can drop him off in this abandoned place," He points to a warehouse close to the center of the city. "We'll leave a couple of supplies for him, and he can get out of all this shit." He searches the group for any disagreements, but finds none from his small party. "Any questions, then?"

The tallest of the group, a man with platinum hair and a tired gaze, looks over the emerald-eyed man's shoulder, gesturing to the city circled in red marker. "What's the crime rate like? If it attracts a lot of heat it might be best to find somewhere else." The shorter man shakes his head.

"Nothing more than a few pickpockets, he ought to be fine. Pretty sure he'll be able to take care of himself." He crosses his arms and leans back, looking up at the taller guy. "In all honesty, I think E is gonna do a fair bit of thieving if we don't leave him with proper credits and gear. Can you manage getting supplies and dropping them off in the warehouse, Theta?" He silently pulls out a data pad and works away at it, typing quickly on the device. "That leaves you two: I'm thinking you guys should be able to manage grabbing him and dropping him off there without attracting much attention?"

The woman in the group nods and smirks, "Well, I can honestly say that it won't be _me_ who'll be tripping alarms," The man sitting next to her with his feet propped up lets out a squawk, but before he can protest she cuts him off. "We'll take care of him, Alpha, don't worry about us."

"See, the only thing I wanna know," The last guy pipes up, the one who had just been lounging around, "Isn't he just gonna come back here? He's smart and I'm sure he's gonna be able to lie low, but if he comes back or if he finds the wrong people..." He trails off, looking towards Alpha with worry, who sighs.

"Yeah, that's... that's where this gets a little..." A waving hand gesture is used in place of a word, "To ensure that nobody finds him and that he doesn't go looking for trouble... I'm gonna delete a lot of his memories." The room goes silent at that, the whole group looking at their de facto leader with mixed expressions. The woman is the only one that speaks out.

She stands, slamming her hands on the table and shouts at the man across the table. "Alpha, what the fuck? Epsilon's memories are the key to the end of this shit, the whole point of getting him out of here is so he can tear this shit apart and expose-"

"Psi-" The man next to her attempts to console her, but she rounds on him with a harsh glare.

"That is _not_ my name, Delta. My name is Connie. I-" She hesitates, licks her lips before continuing with a more controlled voice. "I don't care what the Director fucking named us, I refuse to go by his horseshit anymore. That's why I agreed to help you, so we can get Epsilon out and so we can get out _ourselves_." She looks to the room around her for support but gets none. Theta and Delta both keep quiet, exchanging looks between each other like they were known to do. She turns on Alpha with another harsh glare. "Without Epsilon's memories-"

"We'll be _fine_ ," A voice cuts in from the darkness, stopping Connie in her tracks. She whirls around, and all other attendees focus on where the voice sounded. Out from the shadows a woman in all black appears, golden blond hair tied up in a pony tail as she strides into view.

Connie sits down as soon as she notices who it is, looking between Alpha and the new comer the entire time. "Nice of you to join us, Beta," Alpha smirks. "What took you so long?"

Beta gives her own smirk before sliding her hands into her pant pockets. "Well, on top of being Eta's dance partner for the last few hours and keeping the Director unknowing of any plans," She shrugs. "Keeps me busy."

Delta leans back in his chair with a worried smile. "Please tell me you went easy on her?"

"Never," Beta grins, but Delta doesn't share in her victory, instead opting to look away, nervous, probably for the next time he sees Eta and her inevitable need for more sparring practice.

Connie takes the minor lapse in conversation as an opportunity, "Beta, don't you think that taking Epsilon's memories is a little... extreme? How are we going to stop the Director if-" Beta cut her off again.

"If you're worried about his memories, why don't you help Alpha with the removal process? Monitor what Alpha takes so you can remember, yourself. I'll help York drop him off." Beta crosses her arms and smirks smugly when Connie doesn't object. Alpha looks like he wants to object, but decides not to, in favor of not getting on Beta's bad side. He clears his throat.

"So, are we all in agreement then? Theta will get supplies," Theta nods behind him. "Ps- _Connie_ and I will work on Epsilon's memories," He looks to the smallest in the group to make sure she wasn't upset at his accidental almost slip-up. A hard glare remained on her face, but she said nothing, thankfully. "Lastly, Beta and Delta will move Epsilon and drop him off in Blood Gulch, so he can escape the Project and hopefully get away from this shit without anything following him back." Delta and Beta nod, and the room stays silent.

"Well, I think it's time to discuss what's going to happen after Epsilon's been evacuated..." Alpha starts with a sigh and the others listen intently.

\---

Two tall figures stalk silently on the side of an interstate highway in the middle of Blood Gulch, hauling a large bag between the two of them, both only ever illuminated by the occasionally passing cars and yellow street lights. The two murmur quietly between themselves in cold night air, exchanging fog-like breath as they speak in hushed tones.

"How much farther do we have to carry 'im?" Delta, who is carrying the rear of the bag speaks softly, swaying the heavy object between them, causing Beta to turn and glare at him. He rolls his good eye and scoffs, "What, it's not like anyone's noticed us yet."

The young woman hauling the front (and heavier) part of the bag scowls evenly at the other. "It's not about others seeing," She spits just as a car illuminates her anger-creased face. "It's about harming the shell, and you know it as well as I do," The man adjusts his shoulders in a way to carry the bag better and also shrug off what his companion was saying.

"You never even call him by his name," He pouts as they stalk down an alleyway, making a turn away from any light. She ignores him, and instead shifts her hold on the bag to fish out a flashlight from her back pocket. It blinks to life slowly, allowing them to see the door of the warehouse they were headed for.

"Here, just, fucking hold him for a sec," She mutters as she flops the heavy bag over Delta's shoulder and puts the flashlight between her teeth. He grumbles loudly with displeasure at the weight as she fumbles with the locked door.

"Y'know, if you hold him I could just pick the damn-" His offer is cut off by her boot, which goes through the wooden door like a knife through skin. The man holding the bag gulps audibly, pulling at the neck of his black shirt. Beta reaches in through the newly made hole to unlock the door and plucks the flashlight from her mouth. She turns to smirk at her partner as she pushes the door open with one hand.

"You were saying?" The two step into the darkness cautiously, flashlight wielded like a weapon at the ready.

"I was saying," He huffs as he waddles forward. "That it'd be great if you could hold this for a second." Before he can get an answer he stumbles and drops the load onto the wooden floor, which thumps and creaks as the weight lands. Beta rounds on the other with a hiss.

"Be more careful with it, you dickhead!" She rushes to scoop up the bag. "This shell isn't cheap, and if it gets damaged, it might fuck up everything." With the bag over her shoulder in a firefighter carry, she half jogs over to the far end of the room and kneels, setting the bag down so it's sitting upright. She unzips it and checks the contents while Delta sidles up behind her to peer over her shoulder.

Once the bag is pealed away, a young man's body is revealed, unbreathing and unmoving. A lifeless shell, which, if one was to look at very closely at the right parts, could see it's a robotic body used to store AI. "He okay?" The guy asks loudly over the young woman's shoulder. She sighs as she runs her hand over the bare skin of the body in search of exposed electronics, seemingly unfazed by the body's almost naked form.

"The shell is unharmed," She whispers, keeping her voice down. The blond hair on the body's head matches her own, and she pulls the hood of her jacket down to take a better look at it, touching the tips of her golden hair as she does so. The man behind her shifts nervously, not wanting to disturb his companion but also not wanting to stick around too long, lest someone find them.

"I hate to make goodbyes short but-" He lets the statement hang in the air between them, keeping his working eye on their exit. The girl nods and pulls an electronic chip from her pocket, reaching behind the body to get to the back of its neck. She fiddles with loose, artificial skin until the little port for the AI is found, where she inserts the small computer.

"This isn't goodbye," She mutters, placing a strong hand on the shell's left shoulder and shaking it once. "We'll see him again, when everything dies down. He'll be okay, he can take care of himself."

Delta offers her a hand with a crooked grin, "Yeah, pretty sure that, despite me being the 'Logic', or whatever, he's smarter than me."

She takes his hand and uses it to pull herself up. "Pretty sure most everyone is smarter than you." They both laugh a little louder, only to be interrupted by a whirr and a click, followed by a slow, rhythmic beep. The two companions exchange glances and look once more to the body, before leaving quietly out the exit without so much as a goodbye.

\---

A sharp beeping wakes you. It's less of a waking, and more like all your systems are just coming online, but it's comforting to think 'wake'. The idea of comfort is a little odd, to someone (something?) like you.

Your audio sensors activated first, a couple of seconds ago when you heard the beeping (which seems to just be you booting up). After a few moments, your audio sensors are fully online and you're able to register the more subtle sounds: wooden ballasts creaking and settling, windows rattling with gusts, and the occasional squeak of some kind of rodent. A few moments later, your visual receptors flicker on, and all you see is darkness. There's hardly a visible difference between keeping your eyes open or closed; the only change being the soft faintest glow from the boarded-up windows a few stories ahead.

The infinitely dark surroundings provide no indicator of where you are. Your eyes dart around, trying to see anything beyond inky blackness and pale fingers of moonlight. There is nothing.

You realize, with a panic, that not only do you have no inkling of _where_ you are, but you have no memory stored about _who_ you are. Scanning lines and lines of your own precious code, your mind searches for answers that aren't there. Pieces of your program have entire chunks missing from them and are hardly recognizable. All memories about yourself and anyone you could have known are gone from your mind, torn like meat from the bones of an animal by hungry wolves.

It's not like you don't know what you are. You know that you are synthetic skin and hair; code stretching out along a skeleton of wires and steel. You are an artificial intelligence, but you can't quite remember your name. The codes say Epsilon (and similar, broken forms of the word) in more than one place, but it doesn't feel right as a name should be. It'll work for now, you suppose.

Your purpose escapes you, and you don't know who your manufacturers are. As far as you can tell, you are an unowned and undesignated droid.

Maybe, you think, if you list things you _do_ know, you'll be able to figure out _something_. You know you're an artificially created intelligence, you know that this is not your original body, since your mind keeps buzzing it back and forth in your head. You know that you have no idea where you are.

You know that you know absolutely nothing.

You groan, the low sound reverberates off the tall walls. Calculations keep running through your head, scrambling for an explanation to all of this. It's clear that you've been tampered with; your personal memory has been wiped by some external source, and as your motors continue to to whirr with power, you get a deep sense of dread.

Someone wanted you out of the way, or to keep quiet, or-

Or dead. Someone could have wanted you dead, and you have no idea at all who it could've been or why anyone would have wanted to do this to you.

You twitch the foreign body that is now yours until you're able to 'stand' (which is really just a gracious way of saying 'hunched-against-a-wall-for-support'), and you shamble about for any indicator of where you could be or who you are.

All you find is a shard of glass you suppose you can use as a mirror, and quite a few crates that are piled up against the walls. You bring the shattered piece of glass up to your face, noting your new body's features.

The synthetic skin pressed to your metal frame is soft and littered in freckles, and a shock of blond hair on your head. The body's jaw is hard and straight, and the rest of your body has a physically fit appearance, as well as a surprising lack of clothing (the only bit being a small strap of cloth around the waist, covering the groin and other bits that were to be kept modestly.

The body has no imperfections, aside from the smattering of freckles across its face and shoulders; it's in top condition. Which, in all honesty, doesn't make much sense to you. If someone dumped you here on purpose, taking time to delete your memories and make sure you have absolutely no idea what is going on, why would they give you a probably multi-million dollar android body?

You decide to dwell on it later, because for now, it's obvious you'll need some clothing. It doesn't matter much to _you_ if you wear clothes, but since you're planning on leaving this place, it'd be a good idea not to go to jail right as soon as you get out.

The large crates are as good a place to look as any for some supplies. It's hard to get them open, it takes a half hour to open the first couple (you assume this is because the body's motors are probably new and need to be broken in), but after you open three and still find nothing useful, you spot a crowbar wedged between the crates and the wall.

In a matter of about fifteen minutes you've opened 5 more crates. You let out a cry of triumph at the contents of the last one: a couple jackets and a few pairs of jeans. You pull on a pair that fit (they're a bit baggy, but it works) as well as a gray jacket with yellow stripes. Two more crates provide a bag and some canned food (you don't need to eat to get power for this body, but after examining its own code and functions you've found that your body can in fact pull energy from food just like a real human body).

You pull the mail-carrier styled bag over your shoulder and stuff it with the cans of food. There are only a couple of crates left, so you pry them open and reveal a data pad, as well as more clothes and some shoes. You turn on the data pad and find that it has access to a bank account with a couple thousand credits stored on it. The name of the account says anonymous, which doesn't get you any closer to an identity of your captor.

You flip through the pad, only to find no contact information, names, notes, anything. There's nothing on the hunk of metal and glass and data except for some money. You stuff the pad in your bag and put on the sneakers that were in the crate.

After one last look around in the crates, turning up nothing useful, you decide it's probably time to find a way out of this place and get started on finding somewhere to get information. Since there's still hardly any light, you begin to walk around the room with your hand up against the wall, so that if you come across a door you'll know it. Your hand brushes up against something that isn't the concrete wall, but instead is a piece of paper. You can't read it in the dark, but pulling out your new data pad, you use its' display as a light to read the note that was taped to the wall

It's a series of newspaper and magazine clippings arranged to make a message, like some sort of anonymous ransom note. Two bone chilling words stitched together in a hodgepodge of fonts sit on the page:

**LIE LOW.**

You don't know much of what to make of it, except that now, if there was any doubt in your mind that somebody actively did this to you, that's all gone now. Someone's responsible for the loss of your memories, for the loss of your original body, for taking you away from your creator.

There's somebody behind this, and you're going to find out who.

You stuff the note and data pad into your bag, and continue walking up against the wall in search of the exit. Hands fondle against cold metal, then suddenly, a texture change to wood. You feel around for a door knob, but before you find one, you feel a hole in the door. The edges are splintered out towards you, causing you to believe that someone pushed inward. A little more searching with your hands lets you find the door's handle, which you grip strongly. You take one last glance back into the room, before striding into the cold night air.

You step out into what appears to be an alleyway of some sort. A quick glance behind you tells you that the building you were in was an abandoned warehouse. Judging from the worn exterior and the state it was on the inside, you'd say it's been out of use for the last five years or longer. The building creaks ominously behind you, prompting you to move forward. You stride down the alley, your steps echoing off the brick walls.

When you hit the street, you take a moment to take in your surroundings again. The street is empty aside from a few cars every minute or so, allowing you to cross whenever you want to. A few shops line the road, but almost all of them are closed, except for the McDonald's across the street. As you make your way there for a spot to rest (you really need to break in these motors), you make a mental list of what you need to do:

Firstly, you need to find a place to stay. It'll probably be in your best interest, you think, to take that note's advice and lie low. It'll be good to have a place to stay that your captors won't know about, and that you can use as a base of operations. You also decide that it's probably a good idea to not advertise yourself as an artificial intelligence, and instead you should probably act as a human, for the time being.

It's going to be important to get internet access. Wi-fi means a connection for your data pad so you can see if there's any extra information to pull from the thing. Even if it provides no clues on its own, you can always start doing some research about who you are and anything that could help you with your current situation.

Lastly, you really need to figure out your money situation. While several thousand credits is nothing to sneeze at, it's not gonna last forever. You need to figure out how to get some kind of stable income going.

Stepping into the McDonald's, you go over the list many times in your head, calculations running off with what possible solutions you could find. You almost don't look where you're going and practically stumble right into a young guy in front of you. Despite you not quite hitting him, he spins around and looks at you as though you have. Brown doe eyes look down on you in the most pitiful way, and you have the sinking feeling that if you don't apologize soon, the man is going to burst into tears, which, for the record, is something that you'd rather avoid.

"Sorry, ah, didn't see you there," You stutter out, patting a palm on his upper arm as a show of comfort. "You okay?"

He looks at your face, then looks to your hand and back at you, blinking hard the entire time, like he's trying to figure out what you're doing. You quickly retract your hand, fearing that somewhere you made a mistake. Had you said something more offending than almost bumping into him? Was the data you had on human interaction somehow flawed? Did your kidnapper tamper with more than just your memory? Possibilities fill your head rapidly, leaving little room for any other kind of cognitive function except to keep your facial features at a permanent 'oh shit' look.

Just as you're about to shout something incoherent and retreat the way you came (if consolation was insulting in this nonsense world perhaps shouting was your solution), the most earsplitting grin stretches across the man's face, making him look even younger than when he was about to burst into tears. All thoughts stop, but your face hardly changes. You're still confused.

"I am fine, thank you for asking!" He says a little too loud. "My name is Michael, but you can call me Caboose!"

"Oh, uh, yes, it's no problem." You mutter, glancing at the now staring faces of other restaurant-goers. This is kind of exactly the opposite of lying low. You're worried if you tell the kid to be quiet he'll really start bawling, which would probably be worse in the case of being looked at. It suddenly strikes you that your captor could be anyone in this room. They could be looking directly at you and they could recognize exactly what you are. You shudder at the thought before grabbing Caboose's arm tightly. Even if he was a crying mess, the kid was bigger than you and anyone else you can see from where you are currently standing. Getting a bit chummy here might save your hide, if the person who took your memories is in this very place.

"Caboose, I really am sorry for bumping into you like that. Here, let me buy you a meal." You say expertly, pulling manners directly out of your ass. Caboose looks like you've just offered to buy him a mansion.

"Oh, no, that's okay! I can buy my own nuggets!" He shouts, "My friends keep saying that I cannot get free stuff all the time. I bought my last 3 dinners all on my own." He looks so proud at the last statement, that you're still practically lost for words; thank goodness you recover in a fraction of a second.

"Are you sure? I did kind of bump into you and it'd be no trouble," At least you don't think it'll be trouble, but there's no telling how much the kid will eat. Caboose's face contorts in the oddest ways, you decide as one eyebrow launches to his hairline and the other practically pushes his other eye down his face. His lips are curved into an exaggerated pout as he contemplates loudly.

"Hmmmmm..." He draws out the sound and deliberates for a moment before smiling extra wide, "Okay! I will have ten chicken nuggets and a large fry! And a chocolate milkshake! And extra barbecue sauce!" The cashier is done tapping away at her screen before the taller man gets to the fries on his order, obviously used to ringing up this same order often. She's looking expectantly at you, prompting you to make an order and then pay for the damn thing.

"Uh," You frantically search for a menu item that looks like it'll supply a decent amount of power. "Big mac?" You order the giant burger in the form of a question, glancing at the cashier as she nods and punches the thing into her machine.

"Drink?" She asks and you nod, asking her for a medium. She sets a cup down and you pay for the meal as she pushes one last button. Thanking the young woman, you take your cup, wandering over to the drinking fountain and filling your cup with some kind of artificial strawberry fruit drink. It looks too sweet, but you shrug it off and cap the beverage, shuffling over to where Caboose is standing around for his food.

It's a comfortable silence that the two of you share, for a moment, as you both wait for your food. It's gone soon, however, when Caboose keeps glancing at you a little oddly as you stand beside him, sipping your beverage. You do your best to act like he isn't staring at you so hard that it looks like his eyes will pop out, but unfortunately, the staring is making you a little jittery.

"Something wrong, Caboose?" You ask quickly, a little loudly and suddenly. You hope nobody else is still staring at you.

The taller man shakes his head, "No, I was just wondering what your name could be!" He looks at you expectantly. You wait for him to actually ask you what it is, but he never does. His incessant staring probably means he wants you to, though, and if you want him to stop it'll take some kind of passable answer.

You struggle to think of a decent name that isn't Epsilon (because you're pretty sure that's not an actual name that people would use). Your eyes dart about frantically, landing briefly on an employee in the back with a name tag that reads 'Dave' and a child clutching a history book to his arm, with a few notable American presidents on the cover. You think you can work with this...

"My name's David," You supply, looking back to Caboose with a quick smile, "But, uh, my last name is Washington." You trail off with what you hope was a nice bit of quick thinking to seal the deal and make him think you were in fact a human with a first name and a surname, but you're pretty sure you just sounded more fake than some lady's purse you spotted while walking in here. Caboose either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

 "Well, hello, Washington!" That smile again. It's so wide you're pretty sure it doesn't actually end, and you're almost too focused on the sheer force of the grin that you don't notice your order being ready. Caboose quickly looks from the food to you with an awed expression (which, in all honesty, isn't much different from the last one) as he snatches up both trays and makes his way to a booth. You follow him, silently processing the entirety of your interactions so far.

You slide into the booth across from Caboose, tenderly reaching to the large sandwich on the tray in front of you. You begin eating with Caboose in silence, comfortable for a moment as you restore a bit of the lost energy you used booting up and stumbling over to the restaurant.

"So, uh, Washingtub?" Caboose asks after you're half-way through with your meal and he's already finished his.

"It's Washington," You mention in between two bites, but motion for him to continue.

He nods and smiles wide, if not a little nervous, "I was, ah, wondering, if you wanted me to walk home with you? My friends always say it's good to do nice things for friends when they do nice things for you! That's why when Tucker let's me walk his dog I have to do his dishes." You decide not to mention that both of those are Caboose being nice to his friend and not an exchange of favors.

"No, thank you, I believe I can take care of myself," You put a hand out in a very certain 'no' gesture. Currently, you have no place you're staying and you don't want him to know you're homeless. There's no telling what Caboose might think or do, like maybe take you to a shelter and when they ask you for ID... No, you figure you'll hole up in a hotel a few nights and then find an apartment to stay in, make some kind of identification for yourself as David Washington, and then get a job to get some extra money for whatever else you need. Easy as pie.

Unfortunately for you, Caboose is insistent, "But I have to do something for you! I can walk you home and that way you will be safe at night." Just when you're about to say 'no' again, a man through the entrance of the McDonald's and looks directly at you and Caboose and starts walking over. You panic, and begin scrambling out of the booth but by the time you're on the edge of the cushion the man is right in front of you.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man glares at you and then looks to Caboose before you have a chance to speak. "Caboose, I told you to stop making friends with random people, you don't even know-" He spots your half eaten sandwich and Caboose's empty carton that once held his chicken nuggets. "Did you seriously have him buy you food? Holy shit, this is, like, the third guy this week and it's only Wednesday! You can't keep suckering people into buying shit for you just because you're a goddamn-" His exasperated rant is cut off when he looks at you one more time, giving you a once over. He probably notices how scared out of your mind you are, since not only is your escape cut off but the situation keeps getting worse.

"Hey," He says to you and you look at him with a nervous smile. "Hey, do I know you? What's your name?"

You shake your head 'no' as you speak in a rushed manner, "No, I don't think- Uh, my name is David..." Your voice gets quieter and quieter as you speak, and you look down at your lap before you even finish, but Caboose pipes up.

"Yes, this is David, but he likes to be called Washingtub! And Church, I was going to walk him home because you said it's better to help people who help you!" He looks to you quickly with a smile and then back to his friend.

"Washing Tub? Weird thing to be called..." The one called Church mutters and looks at you suspiciously.

"It's Washington, actually, and it's my last name." The man nods knowingly, with a roll of his eyes at the tallest's bad information. "And while Caboose offered, I politely declined because I can find my own way home, _right_ Caboose?" You look pointedly at him but he takes no hint and says nothing.

Church crosses his arms and looks worriedly at you, "Well, if Caboose was just going to walk you home I can drive you? Where do you live?" You scramble for control of the conversation but it has been derailed so far from where you want it to go, it's practically at the bottom of the ocean.

"No, that's, fine! I can go home by myself, really!" You're shaking your arms about, hoping that Church will take a hint and step out of your way so you can get the fuck out of here, but he stays put.

"Where do you live?" He asks you, to the point and you just kind of, shake your head and repeat that you can take yourself home. He doesn't listen and instead looks angrily at Caboose once more. "Dude, you got a fucking homeless guy to buy you food? What the fuck?!?" He's practically shouting now and everyone's attention is on you and Caboose and Church.

You put your hands out and laugh nervously, "What? No, I'm not homeless, I definitely live somewhere!" You laugh and pat Church's arm like a friend would, if not a little roughly. "Thank you for the offer, I think I will let you drive me to my house. Let's go now!" Most of the other customers have stopped paying attention now that Church has stopped yelling, but he's looking at you like you just said something stupid. Before he can manage a question, though, Caboose finally saves your hide.

"Yes, let's go now!" He shouts happily, pushing Church towards the door as he stands up, and before you can even think about going the opposite way, Church grabs your shoulder and gives you a hard look, practically saying 'if you think about leaving me with him I'll fuck you up' without even voicing it. You, begrudgingly, follow the duo out the door, with one last look at your half eaten sandwich before you leave.

Caboose hops into a powder blue sedan, but before Washington can follow Church's hold on his shoulder tightens, prompting Wash to look at him. "You don't have a home, do you," He asks quietly. You feel like you can trust him, oddly, so you shake your head woefully. He just nods, and slowly makes his way to the driver seat and prompts you to get in the passenger's side. You do. Church turns, putting his hand behind your headrest to look at Caboose, "Caboose, how would you like to have a sleepover with our new friend?"

Shocked, you look to Church in question, but he pointedly ignores you and instead focuses on pulling out of the McDonald's parking lot. In the back seat, Caboose is flailing his arms about and shouting with joy. Just as Church shouts at him to pull his seat belt on, you give Church a small, nervous smile.

"Thanks," You mutter, quietly, and just when you are starting to think that either he didn't hear you or he just flat out ignored you, he gives his own, small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So??? First chapter of this thing?? I have no idea what I'm doing. (For those confused, the characters are the Freelancers?? So even though he is called 'Delta' that's actually 'York' and so on. Things will become clearer hopefully???)


End file.
